


Rainbow Bandaids

by Captain_Charlei



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Grinding, Librarian Dean, M/M, Smut, Teacher Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Charlei/pseuds/Captain_Charlei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is a librarian, Castiel is a professor, and there's a stack of books that's throwing off Dean's balance. </p>
<p>Fluffy, cute, and smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainbow Bandaids

**Author's Note:**

> Destiel Prompt: AU in which Cas teaches at a Uni, Dean comes during a free period of Cas' and sexy times on Cas' desk ensue.
> 
> Prompt from an Anon on my tumblr~ 
> 
> You sexy Anon, you.

 

Dean leaned against the end of the bookshelf, leafing through one of the books he’d neglected to put back yet. It was evening, as far as he could tell, with beams of sunlight filtering through the tall windows and casting the library into a hazy sort of glow.

 

His fingers flipped through the pages, intent on wasting as much time as possible before he had to head home. It was Thursday, and, well, Dean always stayed late on Thursdays. He smiled down at nothing in particular, but stopped himself when he remembered how completely _immature_ this whole thing was. He’d barely even spoken to the guy.

 

Professor Castiel Novak taught Biblical Mythology and Lore at the University where Dean worked. The guy was in his thirties, and was already a huge hotshot in the field—a genius.

 

Not to mention he was uncomfortably attractive. He was just shorter than Dean (if his brief encounters were anything to go by) with dark, permanently disheveled hair, a voice that could bring a god to it’s knees, and probably the bluest eyes that Dean had ever seen.

 

So yeah, _probably_ out of his league. The fact that Dean was borderline stalking him didn’t help matters anyway. He always showed up on Thursday, without fail, and Dean had kind of made it a habit to be around on Thursdays as much as possible.

 

Dean sighed heavily and snapped the book shut, putting it back onto his cart and getting on with his job. It was getting pretty late, Castiel was probably busy grading term papers or something. Despite how _stupid_ it was, Dean felt his stomach drop in disappointment.

 

“Oi! Dean!” A voice from behind him brought him back to reality. “You have a minute?”

 

Dean turned himself to find the source of the voice and gave a lopsided grin when he saw Jo. “Always for you, sweetheart.” He winked.

 

She rolled her eyes and laughed good-naturedly. “I need you to do me a huge favor.”

 

“Alright, what’s up?” Dean stood up straight then, reaching towards the ceiling and smiling absently at his spine popped back into place.

 

“Need you to run these over to someone’s office real quick.” She walked over and started rolling the metal cart away from him. “There’s a stack of books they requested sitting on the front desk, on top should be their office number.”

 

“I don’t get a say in this?” He teased, already moving towards the front of the library.

 

“Not at all, Winchester!”

 

\--

 

It took twice as long as it probably should have to walk halfway across campus, into the old building, and wind his way through to the office in question. The stack of books was almost tall enough to obstruct Dean’s line of vision, and they were _heavy._

 

He leaned them all on one hip briefly, reaching one fist up and knocking against the old frosted glass. “Excuse me?”

 

There was no answer, and after a while, Dean just sighed and shifted, balancing the books precariously on his hip again as he tried the door handle. Which, of course, would be why the door opened at that _exact_ moment, causing the man to yelp in surprise and set everything off balance. Without any warning, he was falling forward in a flurry of books and loose paper.

 

It all seemed to be a blur, one minute, he was falling, the next, he was in the process of sitting up with his eyes squeezed shut and rubbing his head where it’d made contact with something hard. Of course, that’s when he realized that the ground that he’d fallen onto was a lot softer than he thought it should be.

 

And a lot _warmer._ Was the ground _groaning_ underneath him?

 

Dean cracked one of his eyes open and peered down. He froze instantly. Laying there beneath him, surrounded by the mess of fallen books and flapping papers, was another man. _Goddamn Castiel Novak._ The guy pulled himself up onto one of his elbows, taking his free hand and rubbing the back of his head where it’d nocked against the floor. His glasses were askew, and he winced.

 

It was then that he was reminded that he was _on top of him_ , hovering over him with one thigh haphazardly tangled between his legs. Dean felt his whole body flush and he scrambled to get off, accidentally elbowing him in the ribs.

 

“Oh, _shit_ , umm—I’m so sorry!” He busied himself with stacking the fallen books around them. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know—um, oh man.” He continued to try and make some sort of order out of the complete mess around them.

 

Castiel paused the hand that was nursing the lump on the back of his skull and opened his eyes, glancing awkwardly at the man beside him. “It’s okay.” He mumbled, getting himself onto his knees and helping sort through everything. “Are you hurt?”

 

Dean paused and froze, muscles tensing in order to keep away the shiver that would undoubtedly wrack his whole body at the sound of his deep voice. He shot a wary glance at the other man, biting back a pathetic whimper as he discovered that wonderfully blue gaze focused wholly on him. 

 

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” Dean turned his face away before the man could see his painfully red blush.

 

“I don’t think so.” Castiel frowned and reached out, without thinking, and pressed an elegant finger to Dean’s forehead. The man winced noticeably and his gaze flew over with a question. Cas brought his finger down to show him. “You’re bleeding.”

 

“Am I?” He brought a hand up to the skin just above his eye, flinching as the pad of his finger brushed against a forming bruise. “ _Ow._ ”

 

“You must’ve hit it on the door frame or something.” Castiel stood, leaving the mess on the floor and offering a hand. “Here, I’ve got some first aid supplies in my desk.”

 

“O-okay.” Dean accepted the help up, swaying slightly before following the professor back to his desk.

 

He stood there awkwardly beside the wooden tabletop, eyes flitting around the stacks of books and papers. The only window in the room was on the other side of the desk, angled just so, and the fading light of day streamed through.

 

Castiel shoved some of the clutter on his desk to the side and gestured towards the now clear spot. “Sit.” Dean didn’t answer as he complied, hoisting himself back onto the desk and waiting patiently. “My name’s Castiel Novak.” He pulled a small first aid kid out of one of the bottom drawers and set it beside Dean as he spoke.

 

“I know.” The librarian stiffened and flushed. “Er—I man, you’re kind of a big deal around here.” He looked down at his hands, face darkening into cherry. “Not that—I mean. Um. Dean.” He shifted and looked away. “Dean Winchester.”

 

Castiel let out a huff of a laugh and his lips twitched into a smile. “It’s a pleasure, Dean.”

 

“Likewise.” Dean would be lying if he said that his voice came out breathless.

 

“You work in the library, right?” Cas popped open the first aid kit before turning to the man sitting on his desk. “Turn.” He pulled at Dean’s jaw with his fingertips until he was facing him, and inspected the cut with a look of mild dissatisfaction.

 

“How’d you…?” Dean watched the man in front of him, noting the way that his fingers faltered and his lips twitched. “Oh, ‘cause I brought the books over. Right.”

 

Cas’ cheeks dusted themselves pink. “Well, no, actually.” Dean raised an eyebrow, eyes widening. “I saw you there.” He tore open an alcohol wipe and avoided the intense green eyes that were searching his features openly. “This’ll sting, sorry.”

 

Dean almost forgot what was happening until the sharp prick of alcohol zinged through his forehead. “What?”

 

“The alcohol, sorry.” He mumbled. “I have to clean it.” He proceeded to dab gently at the wound, other hand holding the side of Dean’s face still.

 

“No, I mean…” Dean’s voice trailed off and he shifted his gaze to the side. “You said…”

 

Castiel sighed. “I saw you at the library.” He put the alcohol wipe in the trashcan next to his feet and pulled out a bandage. “You were putting away books.” He trailed his fingers over Dean’s face and pressed the sticky piece of plastic over the gut as gingerly as possible. “Sorry about the bandaid, Dean, my sister thought they’d be hilarious.”

 

Dean glanced down at the box and almost let out a laugh. Rainbow. _Rainbow, gay-pride bandaids._ And he was wearing one on his goddamn forehead. He couldn’t have helped the amused snort even if he tried. “Why?”

 

Castiel tensed all of a sudden and moved back an inch. “She thought they’d be an appropriate… gift.”

 

Dean blinked slowly. “Cas, you—you’re gay?” He gaped disbelievingly at the man in front of him who was now avoiding all eye contact and flushing fiercly. Castiel Novak, with his disheveled hair and gorgeous eyes, the guy he’d been _pining_ for, was _gay_.

 

He turned, moving away slowly. “Dean, I should—“

 

“Kiss me.” Dean watched the other man’s face whip around so fast, he was sure he got whiplash.

 

“What?” He breathed, cheeks blooming red.

 

Dean smiled. “I saw you at the library, too. You always came on Thursday, usually late in the afternoon, and so I’d make sure I was there.” He laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was waiting around this afternoon, kind of hoping that I’d see you when—!”

 

Dean froze, suddenly aware that a pair of wonderfully soft lips had swallowed the rest of his stupid confession. It took three, seemingly endless heart beats for it to register that Castiel was _kissing_ him.

 

Cas had started to pull away slowly, really hoping that this wasn’t some awful misunderstanding, when Dean’s fingers were suddenly raking through his hair and his lips were kissing back hard. Castiel let out a small noise from the back of his throat and pressed forward, slotting himself between Dean’s seated thighs and grabbing his hips.

 

Dean hummed in appreciation and parted his lips, smiling as he felt Cas slide his tongue past them and push against his own briefly before pulling back out. The librarian whined unhappily at the loss, and was rewarded with another slow stroke of tongue against his.

 

Long fingers pressed into the skin of Dean’s sides, skimming along his hip bones briefly before pushing up the hem of his cotton Metallica shirt and slipping underneath. A noise that didn’t quite register as his own leaked into Castiel’s mouth, and he felt the other man smile shortly before fucking his tongue back into Dean’s pliant mouth.

 

It should’ve been embarrassing, really, the way that a few minutes of kissing had made him harder than he’d ever remembered being in his life. God, Castiel kissed like a goddamn _saint_. Or, maybe not a saint, probably more like the devil.

 

He mewled into the kiss and shifted forward desperately, looking for some kind of friction. His groin made contact with Cas’ hips, and he ground against them, moaning with the relief of it. He felt Cas’ jaw go slightly slack and a harsh almost groan spilled into his mouth.

 

Dean nibbled on Cas’ bottom lip and pushed his hips forward again. The professor’s hands shot back to Dean’s lower back, just above his ass, and pulled him even harder against him, pressing them together in a away that made it impossible to ignore the fact that Cas was just as hot and bothered as he was. “ _Dean.”_

The man in question untangled his fingers from Cas’ hair and dragged them down his chest, stopping at the waistline of his trousers and un-tucking the wrinkled dress shirt. He pulled away from Cas’ mouth and looked down at his hands, trying, and failing, to unbutton the white fabric. Castiel’s lips traveled to his neck and jaw, sucking hot, open-mouthed kisses into the sensitive flesh there.

 

Dean was going to have a bruise there, no fucking question. _And he was so okay with that._ Cas pulled at Dean’s tee, ripping the cotton up and off of his shoulders. Dean raised his arms in compliance and tossed the article of clothing god knows where.

 

Castiel groaned into his neck, pressing their hips against each other and digging his hands into Dean’s sides. The other man worked his way up the shirt, reaching the last button and popping it open before raking his blunt nails down the newly exposed skin. Cas bit down in response, stifling a cry.

 

“ _Holy—Cas, careful!_ ” He arched into it though, breath hitching when he felt Cas’ tongue start to sooth the hurt.

 

“Dean, _need_.” And apparently Castiel was beyond proper English, but that was okay because one of his hands was moving around Dean’s front and popping the button to his jeans open with two fingers. The metallic hiss of the zipper was almost enough to drown out Dean’s as the unrelenting pressure eased off his cock.

 

The librarian barely had time to recover his breath before a hand was slipping past the waistband of his navy boxers and playing absently with the base of his dick. “Cas _—fuck.”_ Dean snapped his hips up, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. His hands scrambled, finding Cas’ belt and undoing it with quivering hands.

 

He absently felt his jeans and boxers being pushed down little by little, but only enough to give the man in front of him better access to— _that._ A sure hand wrapped around him and gave a firm pull upwards, and Dean couldn’t have stopped the filthy noise he made from exploding into the air around him. His own hands worked faster, fumbling, but managed to release the button and pull down the zipper. Dean yanked down the slacks and the cotton beneath them as much as he really needed to before taking hold of Cas and stroking upwards.

 

Cas jerked, hips rolling forward and into Dean’s. Dean let him go, thrusting forward against his bare skin and wrapping his arms tight around his neck. The other man released his grip on Dean’s shaft and pulled him against him, shifting just so and slotting their erections against each other.

 

“Mmn, _good.”_ Dean babbled, locking  his fingers in Cas’ hair and pulling. “God, Cas, _good.”_

 

“ _Dean._ ” The low syllable washed through Dean like molasses. Cas mouthed at his neck and shoulder, panting harshly against the flushed skin. Dean felt a hand slip back between him, and his hips stuttered as the palm took both of them. Cas stroked them together, thrusting himself into his fist and against Dean’s cock.

 

“Cas, _Cas,_ ‘m gonna—!” Dean could feel it building, sharp pulses of raw pleasure that started to pool in his lower abdomen and drifted lower. His balls tightened and his toes curled almost painfully. “ _Cas!”_ He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Cas bit down lightly on his throat and hummed, dropping his own weeping erection and focusing only on Dean’s. He pumped him faster, running his thumb over the head and smearing the opaque pearls down the shaft. “Do it.” Dean whimpered in the back of his throat and swallowed. “You are so fucking _beautiful._ ”

 

And that’s what did it: the low growl of possessiveness and praise that sent Dean hurdling off the cliff and into sweet, blissful oblivion. He came with a sharp cry and tensed up, shooting off onto Cas’ hand and digging his nails into his shoulders. He was semi-aware of Castiel working him through his orgasm while rutting against his hip. He felt the shoulders under his hands freeze up and Cas’s mouth clamp down on his clavicle. The man shuddered through his own release, leaving him panting and heavy against Dean’s skin.

It was silent for a few minutes, the air filled with both men catching their breath. Dean absently petted through Cas’ hair, playing gently with the short strands at the nape of his neck.

 

“That was…” Castiel trailed off, nuzzling closer into Dean’s still sweaty skin. “Can I keep you?”

 

Dean laughed out loud at that, and pulled at Cas’ shoulders until he backed up just enough for Dean to hold his jaw and lean in, brushing a soft, chaste kiss against his lips. “God, yes.”

 

Castiel smiled up at him and brought his hand up over Dean’s. “Good.” He pressed himself into Dean’s neck again, and kissed the forming bruises lightly.

 

Dean felt himself smile and drape his arms over Cas’ shoulder. He was content to stay put for now. With his shirt discarded, his pants open and covered in mess, a warm body against his own, and a rainbow bandaid on his forehead. 

 


End file.
